Bad News
by MithLuin
Summary: The ending of Silence of the Lambs, from someone else's point of view - a Red Dragon story.
1. Bad News

_Bad News_

Numb. It took him a moment to realize he had frozen, remote dangling in his hand, staring blankly at the screen as the voice droned on, onto another story already. But when Will Graham noticed what he was doing, he snapped out of it, and muted the TV. Too late. The damage had been done. He put his head in his hands, and felt very, very tired.

He'd taken to obsessively watching the news this past month. He thought it would be cathartic, or maybe it was just voyeurism. He didn't really want to think about _why_. He picked up his glass next to the discarded remote on the small coffee table strewn with newspapers he'd read and re-read. He took a gulp and went into the kitchen, where his wife was washing up the dinner dishes, and sat down at the table. "Bad news," he said morosely.

"What is it?" she asked, unconcerned. But when she turned from the sink and saw his face, she put down the dishtowel, and turned to face him fully. "What's happened?" she asked again, dread creeping into her voice this time.

"We'll have to move. Leave Florida."

"Why?" She brushed her dark hair out of her face. Still, she did not make any move to step closer to him, cautious of his mental state.

He stared at the glass on the table in front of him, not looking at her. "Lecter. He's escaped. The bastards let him get away. I just saw it on the news."

Now she came over and sat down across from him. "Will…"

"He was in...Memphis. He practically just walked out of the courthouse where they were holding him." He shook his head. "This wasn't supposed to happen." He thought…he thought he'd finally escaped it all. Not a peep from Crawford, even when the Buffalo Bill story filled the news. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone realized Lecter would have the key to this guy – but he was not given the task of unlocking the good doctor this time. No, Crawford had a new and lovelier young recruit for that. All power to him. To her. He had just stayed on the sidelines and...watched. It should have been a relief, but...it was oddly deflating. As the body count climbed, and still he did not pick up the phone, he wondered who he was.

Molly took his hand in both of hers, breaking off his reverie. "You'll make it through this."

He met her eyes. "I'm not so sure this time. I've been falling apart for years. This may be the last piece to unhinge me." He knew there was some hope in recognizing the symptoms, but he took small comfort in it. Those who thought that the truly insane couldn't see it happening had never met Dr. Lecter.

She shook her head. "No, don't say that. You are stronger than that. This doesn't have to... We can go wherever you like –" But her voice sounded placating. She was not speaking truth, but speaking out of the concern that had haunted all of their interactions recently, the concern that had driven Josh away. Will had spent more and more time alone with his boats the past few years…and now this.

He pulled his hand away. "There is no hiding from this kind of fear, this uncertainty. We can move to a different state, change our names, and live peacefully for the next ten years. But I'll always know that one night I could wake up to him standing there, watching me…before he butchers both of us. There is no defense against that type of fear, no way to be safe from it."

She started crying, and he pounded the table. "Those _bastards, _those fucking bastards – what the hell were they thinking? He was supposed to stay locked in that cell for nine God-damned life sentences." He stood up, energized by his impotent rage. There was little he could do to protect his family from this danger. Simply _not knowing_ if they would be safe.... _'No one's safe around you, Will....'_

"Will –" she started, but he cut her off. "Where's Josh?"

"He's over at Tony's, he should be back in a couple of hours."

"Bullshit. He's at Marisa's again, and we'll be lucky to see him before two. When are you going to get it through your head that he lies to us?" He ran his hand through his hair. "What the hell is wrong with me, I can't even keep track of my own son, let alone…." He sat down again, defeated.

"Will, you're upset, and that's fine, but we can do something about this. We…we don't have to give up yet." He realized that the danger they were in had not really sunk in for her yet. She was still trying to be strong for him, not worrying about herself or even her son…yet. She would, soon enough. But she had never met Lecter - how could she know he would never _ever_ forget him? He had burned another Christmas card not too long ago. Now he wished he'd read it first.

"He's already won. We can't stay here; he's known that we lived in Marathon for the past…" he made an unconscious gesture towards the scars on his face, only partially covered by a scant beard. "We can't tell anyone here where we go, or else he can track us too easily. Don't you see? Just like that, without doing anything at all, he's stolen my life from me."

"From you?"

"From all of us," he corrected himself, wincing slightly. "I've loved it here – this place, the beach, the water…"

"The hurricanes," she joked, though her laugh was more of a sniffle.

He nodded. "Yeah, okay, so maybe we can go someplace without hurricanes. "

"I have family in California…" she suggested tentatively.

"That cousin you haven't seen for ages?"

"Yeah…Tom and his wife have a kid about Josh's age. We could maybe stay with them while we look for a place…" She was really trying.

"Molly, think what you're saying. You only know that because they send you a Christmas card with a family picture in it every year. You don't know that they'd want to put us up…."

Her patience snapped. "Well, it's kinda short notice – it's not like I knew we were even thinking about moving this morning!"

"I know, I know. Hey, look, I'm sorry. I hate this. I hate what it's doing to me, to us…turning us into some sort of refugees." He made to pull her into his lap. She resisted at first, but then let him. "It'll be okay. Somehow. I'll call Crawford in the morning, and see if there's anything he can tell me. Maybe…maybe this won't be as bad as I'm thinking…." He stroked her back.

She turned his face to hers, cupping it in both hands. "Will…it is as bad as you are thinking. That man hates you, and unless he's not as bad as you've said…"

"Trust me, he's much worse than I've said."

"Then you're being reasonable. But we'll get through this. We'll make it work out. I…I promise. I'm not giving up on you yet." She was trying so hard not to be afraid, but she trembled in his arms.

He closed his eyes so he would not have to see the lie behind that promise, and rested his forehead against hers. He held her close, willing her not to be afraid. He did not want to think about the price that was about to be exacted from him. Years ago, he had stolen Dr. Lecter's freedom, while leaving him his life. One way or another, that favor was about to be returned. But there was more than one way to rob him of his family, and he was doing a pretty good job of driving them away all by himself. There was one way of making sure Lecter could not kill them, but...that came from the part of him he used the drink to drown out. His 'imagination' they called it. Lecter could not murder or eat people who were already dead. Not that he should even entertain the thought.

He most especially never wanted to sleep again, because now there would be no stopping the nightmares.

* * *

The End

My tribute to _Red Dragon_; I know it's rather dark, but I am fascinated by Will's character. I wanted to capture this moment in time for him and his family; Lecter leaves the country almost immediately, apparently more interested in Chilton than Graham. But...the uncertainty and fear would be pretty overwhelming, I think.

_If the movie timeline is followed, this occurs in ~ 1989, about two years after Hurrican Floyd struck the Florida Keys. If the book timeline is used, this should occur in 1983, I think (and the reference to his scars would be more accurate). Will and Molly's son is named Josh in the movie; in the book, he is Will's stepson and his name is Willy. I favored the movie scenario, because it would be more likely that all three of them would still be in Marathon, the way that ended. _

_Silence of the Lambs _appears in one other of my stories, the much more light-hearted 'Courtesy Calls' in the _Hellsing_ universe.


	2. Phone Call

_Phone Call_

Neither Will nor Molly made any move to leave the kitchen. They did not even pretend to get ready for bed. They sat up, waiting for Josh to come home.

They were mostly silent; it was an awkward vigil. Will had held his wife close on his lap for awhile, but it wasn't long before Molly made an excuse to get up – she had to finish the dishes. He did not offer to help, and when she finished, she resumed her seat at the table. Close enough to be within arms' reach, but not touching.

That was how their life had been for what seemed forever now. Close, but not touching. He was closed off. She felt guilty about her resentment.

He hated the fear. It made him feel slick inside, like his internal organs belonged to someone else, not him at all. _'It's not getting cut,'_ he'd told Crawford years ago. But then…it was about memory. When he'd killed, it had been from a distance, with a gun. When they tried to kill him, it was always so personal, overpowering him, catching him off-guard with a knife. Leaving him his scars with his life. But also his fear.

The glass in front of him was empty. He'd offered to pour Molly a drink, but she shook her head. He got up and refilled his anyway, then handed it to her for a sip. She took more of a gulp. It was starting to hit home, then, for her too. He didn't drink martinis anymore; just raw gin, on the rocks. No fancy green olives or splash of vermouth to distract from the alcohol. Most of the time, he didn't wait for the ice to melt either. Usually, she didn't like it that way. There was no choice now but to carry a pistol in her purse for the rest of her life. Not that that would make any of them feel safe.

Midnight, and the boy still wasn't home. He couldn't…he couldn't do this. He couldn't just wait. It was driving him crazy to sit here, listening for any sound, a sound that might be Josh, or just the dogs…or Doctor Lecter. His mind scolded him for being unreasonable. There was no way to get from Memphis to the Florida Keys so quickly, and a recently escaped convict had few resources. The man couldn't exactly board a plane or rent a car with no clothes and no money. There were other ways of getting cars, though.

Lecter would get those things, in time. If one thing had come out of that trial, it was that he had been a charmer. He'd had everyone fooled. He'd almost fooled Will, but never quite tried to charm him. He'd been polite and helpful, but nothing more. After the fact, all that came across was his unbridled anger; the stare and malicious smile was all that Will remembered of court. Sitting here and waiting was infuriating. Anger and fear, it cycled back and forth. He was definitely tending towards the anger now. He got up and picked up the phone. Molly watched him, but still she said nothing. He wondered if she knew who he was calling. Screw waiting till morning.

"Jack, it's Will Graham." No apologies for waking the man. He had no intention of ever apologizing to this man again, even if he ran over his dog by accident. "Just checking in to let you know I'm still alive."

"Jesus, Will." It had been over a year since they'd spoken; Jack sounded like he hadn't slept in awhile. Of course he hadn't; Buffalo Bill must be running them all ragged. "I guess you've heard the news, then?" He was greeted by silence. "Look, I know it's bad, but I will do what I can for you and your family. I'll have a man on his way down there as soon as I can; I was going to call in the morning. Just name your terms – we'll relocate you, offer you a job, anything. Even get you out of the country, if –"

"If I think it would help? No, thanks. I think I'd prefer the Bureau not knowing my whereabouts, actually." They couldn't stake out his house if they didn't know where his family was living, after all. Jack knew perfectly well that Will would refuse any offer of charity.

"It wasn't us. We would never have authorized the transfer down to Memphis…"

"Well, Christ, Jack, who was it, then? What _idiot_ decided to toy with Lecter? Was it that Senator?"

"She used her muscle to make it happen, but it was Chilton who orchestrated –"

"Chilton?" Will put his knuckle to his mouth, suddenly afraid he was about to giggle. "The great fool – Lecter will take his time with that one, surely he realizes that?…He should never've let him out of that cell!"

"No one is arguing the man's a fool, but the damage is done and he's on the loose now. We've got everyone we can spare on it, and full cooperation from the locals. I've some hope we'll find him, but if not quickly, he'll go to ground and stay quiet for awhile. We'll put a guard on Chilton for as long as it takes." The _'and you, too,'_ hung in the air unsaid.

"Jack – it's personal with you, too. He hates you. It's my face he sees when he thinks about getting put away in the first place - but he knows who was pulling my strings. He hasn't forgotten, nor will he. I think he'd risk going back just to get a good look at my face now. Maybe not right away, but...." He trailed off, not really wanting to describe what he thought Lecter would do in front of Molly. His earlier candor was from the shock, and he regretted it now. If he hadn't said anything, could life have gone on normally for weeks, months, years even? "You don't want Lecter thinking about your family."

"Don't worry about me here," Jack said quickly. "You know Lecter, he likes to keep up a correspondance. He won't do anything just yet; he'll want to savor his freedom a bit. Besides, he knows we're ready for him. We'll stake out the airstrip in Marathon. Every God-damned police station in the country knows what Lecter looks like now, I think."

"I'm not staying."

"I guess not." He sighed. "I'm really sorry, Will." Jack sounded old and gutted. Will had trouble reminding himself that it had only been a year, and that he'd started this conversation furious.

"Yeah, well, I am too." It didn't change anything. "I'll be off in the boat for awhile. Don't be surprised if I don't answer my phone again."

"Will, you can't just take off on us now; we can discuss…"

"I can't sleep in this house." He said it abruptly, without much tone in the voice. It was a clear accusation though, and an admission of his weakness. It was at that point that Jack realized he'd spent the evening drinking. No surprise, really.

Crawford had no kindness for him, though. No reassurances. Lecter being free would eat at anyone, but he didn't want to think about what it would do to Will. Will had been a friend…and maybe that was why he'd tried to delay having this conversation till the morning. Even if the madman never went near Will or his family, they might as well be added to the victims' list. One more among the doubtless many unknown victims of Dr. Lecter.

Jack made some empty reassurances, and eventually hung up. He couldn't afford to lose sleep right now, not in the middle of a case…but he didn't go to bed, either. Will was one of his, and he had a feeling he'd be haunted by his ghost now, more than usual. In the dim timelessness of the middle of the night, it was easy to imagine that boat would never make landfall or be heard of again, and there wasn't much he could do to stop it. With Lecter loose, Will's fears would do all the damage Lecter could wish for.

Will had mastered his fear many times in the past…but each of those encounters had taken something out of him, and this was a lot to ask of anyone. Jack hadn't been able to face Molly before; now it was unthinkable. He hoped Will still could, at least. He knew what it was to slowly lose your wife, and quite frankly, he would have traded it for meeting Dr. Lecter any day.

* * *

I'm not going to take this story much further, but I did want to get Crawford in here. He is quite the puppet master, though not fully devoid of compassion. And he's had a rough couple of days, certainly.... I wrote most of this before I realized that this was the night his wife died, though that happened after this phone call (3 AM).


	3. Late Night Homecoming

_Late Night Homecoming_

There was a crunch of gravel. Molly glanced at Will accusingly; Marisa did not have a car, and Josh hadn't taken theirs; he had been with Tony, it would seem.

"You're going to catch it," Tony said sympathetically. The boys could see the lights on in the Graham house.

"Shit, how late do your folks stay up?" Dan asked. He wasn't concerned; it was no skin off his nose if his little brother's friend got caught out. He pulled his pickup up to the house, pulling around in a wide circle.

"Not usually this late," Josh muttered. He knew he was in for it. "Thanks for the lift, you two."

Josh hopped down from the truck. "See ya," Tony waved, scooting over to the seat he had just vacated. They drove away before he got up the steps.

He sighed. No use trying to sneak in. Even so, he opened the door quietly, stepped inside, and closed it behind himself again. He'd have to go through the kitchen to get to the stairs. He figured it was his dad who'd waited up for him, and was surprised when he found both of his parents waiting, sitting at the table silently. They did not jump up, nor did they start by accusing him of anything. They just sat there. Uneasy, he stopped in the doorway.

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered.

"Just come on in and have a seat," his mother said. She sounded torn up about something. He almost expected her to call him "baby" like she used to when he was small. He was taller than her now; taller than both of them.

Will was staring at the table, with his hands in front of his face; he hadn't acknowledged Josh's presence yet. "You didn't have to wait up," Josh said from the doorway, hoping he sounded apologetic.

"Yes, we did. Sit down." Will's voice was almost hoarse; Josh's eyes immediately flicked to the glass on the table. Great.

As he walked over towards the table, he became more alarmed. Still, they hadn't accused him of anything… but something awful hung in the air.

"Look, I can explain –"

"I don't want to hear about Tony or Marisa right now," Will interrupted him. Josh shut his mouth.

"Something has happened," Will said cryptically. "In the morning, you are going to pack a bag and we're going out on the boat for awhile, a few days, maybe a week."

"But, I've got school," he protested, confused.

"Forget school."

"Honey, you're gonna have to tell him why." His mother spoke up, but not taking his side; she was being more deferential than usual. Something had happened. Something awful had happened while he was out.

"Did…did somebody die?" Josh asked, his voice sounding higher and breathier than he was comfortable with. His grandfather had gone to the hospital for his heart just a month ago. They said he was going to be fine if he took his meds….

"No," Will shook his head. "Nobody's died." _Well, a few cops in Memphis did, _his mind supplied helpfully, but that wasn't what Josh was asking. "I think we just need some time to…to deal with some things. Some time away from here, with the open water. We can talk more on the boat. Right now, you are going to march upstairs and go to bed. We'll leave in the morning."

Will watched the uncertainty on Josh's face, and knew, just knew, that it was going to kill him to have to tell the truth tomorrow. For all his tough teenage rebellion recently, he still had a young, vulnerable face. A death mark was a heavy burden for anyone to bear, but Josh was young and had earned it through no fault of his own. If he was not careful, Lecter was going to tear his whole family apart without even setting foot in Florida. He was sure the doctor would find that amusing.

Josh saw that his father was suppressing some kind of horrible anger. He knew that whatever they weren't talking about was bad, but that he wasn't going to get any answers tonight. Reluctantly, he stood, and mumbled _'good night.'_ His mom got up and hugged him tight. Will stared at the table, still.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Molly asked as soon as Josh went upstairs.

"I promise I will tell him tomorrow," Will said, finally standing up. He refilled his glass, but this time with water. "That kind of news deserves sunlight and open spaces, not darkness right before bed. He deserves a good night's sleep."

Molly shook her head. "He's spooked already."

"So am I." Will stayed in the kitchen all night, with the lights on. Molly lay down on the wicker couch in the next room, where she could see the light, but eventually she drifted off.

Josh was not having a good night.

As soon as he'd seen the light coming up the driveway, he had a sinking feeling, figuring he'd get yelled at when he stepped in the door, accusations flying. But…the silent vigil he walked in on turned out to be worse. Something was definitely up. Something serious. They looked like someone had died. They looked scared. He was a bit jumpy, up in this part of the house all by himself. It was like being eleven again, when he'd refused to go to sleep without a light on in the room, and all his nightmares were filled with silent men looming out of the darkness. That had only lasted for a few months, but he wasn't likely to forget it.

The feeling he had now was not that blind heart-racing panic, but more an awful dread. As if he'd look up and find that some horrible creature had been contemplating him from the ceiling fan. Or the story he'd read, about the tsunami. For some reason, that image always stuck with him, of the tide going out, out, out, and all the people waiting on the strangely dry beach, curious and puzzled (because in the story, none of the children knew it was a sign of the coming tsunami). And then…the dread when they realize that the sea is returning, and a giant wave bears down on them. Nowhere to go; stranded on a beach, watching doom approach. That was what dread felt like to him. He'd seen the tide go out this evening, but he wouldn't see the wave til the morning. He wondered if he'd still be standing on the beach, or if the trip on the sailboat would be a chance to reach higher ground.

Either way, something was _very_ wrong, and Josh did not sleep well.

* * *

Next up - some introspection on the boat. Josh is most likely recalling "The Big Wave" by Pearl S. Buck, but it's been quite a few years since he read it.


	4. Fleeing

_Fleeing_

Will stayed in the kitchen all night. He wasn't even sure why; he knew he was being unreasonable. After Josh went to bed, he fetched his pistol and set it on the table in front of him, just out of reach. He did not want to spook and do anything regrettable. As soon as it was light, he went outside. In the grey pre-dawn light, before the sun tipped over the horizon and spilled all the color back into the world, he checked over the boat thoroughly; there was no place a person could be hidden or stowed away on it.

When he went back inside, he started packing food, getting together some things they might need. Molly joined him. "Will?" she asked. She was still more worried about him than the family.

"It's going to be okay, Molly. I just need to…think. If I can get out on the open water for awhile, I think…I think that will be good."

She nodded, and started putting food in the cooler. She was as beautiful as ever, with rumpled hair…but so sad and tired. She frowned when she saw that the gun was coming with them, but said nothing. He did not know how she bore her own scars with such strength. She called out of work for the next couple of days, claiming family emergency, and then went upstairs to wake Josh while Will went out to feed the dogs and check the boat again.

Josh was surly from being woken up entirely too early; lack of sleep and dread did little for his mood. But still, he complacently went along with his mother's request, stuffing some clothes in a bag and responding to her question of whether he wanted mustard on his sandwiches in a monotone.

Once they were underway, Will relinquished control of the boat to Josh, lay down in the sun, and went to sleep. Molly murmured to her son, "We'll talk about it when he wakes up." Josh thought she looked suddenly old and…unlovely from lack of sleep and worry. For the first time, guilt twinged through the dread and uneasiness that had made him almost refuse the eggs she'd made for breakfast. He knew he made her worry sometimes, but this wasn't his fault…was it? Something had happened…right?

Will woke up from his nap several hours later with a violent twitch; it wasn't quite noon yet. Wordlessly, Molly offered him a cold drink, and he mutely accepted. He stared off at the water for a bit, but the weight of the silent presence behind him was distracting.

"There's never going to be a good time to say this," he finally said when his drink was finished. He turned back towards the boat, and faced Josh. "I'm sorry I've kept you waiting, but I have bad news. It's…a heavy burden, and I wish I didn't have to tell you at all."

"I'm not a kid anymore," Josh said. "Just tell me." The wait was killing him.

"No, you're not." Will took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. "Last night, Dr. Hannibal Lecter escaped from jail."

"No…no way!" Josh said. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. "How the hell did that happen?" He winced after, not liking to curse in front of his mother. She said nothing, though.

"He was transferred to Memphis, because of the Buffalo Bill case and the Senator's daughter. There must have been a mistake with security; he got away in an ambulance."

Josh digested this news, and wrapped an arm around his chest, holding his other arm. "That's just…wrong."

"I know. And I am _very_ sorry about all of this."

"I wish you shot him, like Mom shot Dolarhyde." Josh never used the Dragon nickname, the few times he brought it up.

"I wish so, too," Will said, knowing that Molly wouldn't want to hear that, "but it didn't happen that way." When he had first seen Lecter in court, it was hard to think of anything else. It had surprised him; as cut up as he was over having to shoot Hobbs, he felt intensely disappointed he had not taken out Dr. Lecter. Especially knowing how unlikely it would be for Maryland to enact the death penalty in a case where the criminal can claim insanity so tidily. He watched Josh now, taking this information in, watching the dread transform into fear, and hating himself, yet again, for bringing this evil into his family. If only…if only the past weren't so real.

"So what…what happens now?" Josh asked.

"For now, we stay out here on the water so I can think," Will said. "After that? I'm not sure. We have to discuss it." He would not tell the boy they were moving until he was sure Molly was okay with that decision. After all, she had not opted to move after the attack five years ago.

He turned and looked back at the water. He wanted to be out here alone, but he knew that he could not have the peace he needed if he could not see them alive and breathing. He did not trust what his imagination would do when his eyes were closed. And in truth, he was terrified that if he went off alone, he would return to find them gone, as if these difficulties would be too much, and overwhelm his fragile family, scattering them.

The gnawing, clawing, crazy fear of the night before had dissipated. He could hold it at arm's length and look at it…out here. It was waiting for him though, as soon as he set foot on shore again. But here, with the sun shining and the water stretching out to the horizon and the shore safely _distant_, his world was just this little boat with his family on it. Lecter had no part of that. He knew the danger was not imminent; he could be calm and rational, if he had to be.

Though even when he was calm and rational, he was not always in what everyone else would call his right mind. When he'd woken up in the hospital after the attack by Dolarhyde, one of the first things they'd told him had been that he'd lost his spleen. Somewhere, in all the drifting in and out of drug-induced sleep, he'd had the thought, "Well, Lecter can't eat that now." It had seemed reasonable at the time.

Once he woke up for real, he wondered if people even ate spleens. He'd never heard of it, but then – people ate a lot of strange things. He'd certainly never had any inclination to write to Lecter to find out if he'd be interested in human spleen. Lecter. The charming sociopath – the monster. Crawford seemed to think that Lecter would value freedom more than revenge, but Will was not lulled by that. Soon or late, Lecter would turn his eyes to the Graham family. It was Will's job to be prepared, to protect them.

For a moment, he envied Lecter his fearlessness. He did not know why it was, but he knew that Lecter was not afraid of other people, nor was he troubled or conflicted; he was perfectly comfortable within his own situation, whatever that might be. He knew that Lecter did not dream as he did. But that was one of those thoughts that should be damped down as soon as it appears – no one should be comfortable inside Lecter's skin. Whatever it was that made Will uncomfortable in his own was a part of his humanity he was in no hurry to sacrifice.

But what he wouldn't give to get rid of this fear.

He looked up to see Molly watching him. She smiled tentatively, not hurriedly looking away. He must be doing better; less scary now. He returned her smile, weakly. She was holding up so well; she was not likely to forget what it meant to have a killer call at the house, and yet here she was, standing by him. They would face the threat together this time. His eyes strayed to the cooler, and she suggested food. Josh seemed less eager than usual; on a normal day, he would eat whatever was placed in front of him and always ask for more. Molly had brought oranges along, so Will peeled one and ate it slowly. It was time to talk again.

"We have to make some decisions. Important ones. I want to make them together, so there will be less opportunity for recrimination later." Josh usually wasn't included in his and Molly's discussion of their plans, but Will saw no reason to leave him out this time. "Dr. Lecter has known for years that we can be found near Marathon, Florida. There can't be that many Grahams in the Keys, and it would not be difficult to get directions out here. Now, it is possible he will be caught quickly by the Memphis police, and we'd have nothing to worry about. But – "

"But there's also a good chance he'll just get away," Josh finished.

"Yes. If he does, we will likely have no hints of his whereabouts for some time. There would always be the chance that sometime in the future, he will think to drop by and…visit us." Will swallowed those words uneasily. Sick, sick, sick – it made him sick to say them. How he wished some Memphis cop would put a bullet in Lecter's brain before they got back!

"Then we can't stay here." It was Josh who said it. So matter-of-factly willing to move on from this life and start a new one. Will's own father had uprooted his family several times, and he was not so eager to do that now. But given the alternative, he seemed to have little choice. If only it didn't feel so much like running away....

Will took a deep breath. "If we do that, we would have to sever ties cleanly. No one here could know where we are moving to. We might have to consider using a different name. We can have mail forwarded through the FBI and sell the house by proxy. That sort of thing. It would not just be a matter of simply moving away. Is that…is that something you'd be willing to do?"

He asked Josh, but looked at Molly. Josh glanced at his mother, and let her answer first.

"I am not willing to sit here and wait for a visit from Dr. Lecter," Molly said evenly. "Maybe, if he is caught or killed, we can come back some day." She loved this place; the Keys were her home. But it was not Will who had had to shoot an invader in the face the last time.

"I think…I think it would be too…too strange to stay. It would be like…an invitation. I don't want to just sit here and wait for him to come find us," Josh said.

Will nodded. "I do not want to do that either. It wouldn't be feasible to set up a perpetual surveillance operation here in the hope that he might show up. Besides, I do not want to live under permanent guard, and I can't say I'd be comfortable asking you to, either."

"So…where are we going to move to?" Josh asked.

Will smiled at him. "Where would you like to go?"

* * *

This is all I have written so far, but I'd like to do at least one more chapter.


	5. Tentative Plans

_Tentative Plans_

That evening, they made a fire on a small shoal. Will wanted to test his ability to deal with land and darkness, and both held up rather admirably. But then…no one knew where they were, and no one could reach this small spit of land he was on without a boat. But fear was never reasonable. Fear made your heart pound even when there was nothing there. He was sleeping on the boat tonight.

"How about Buffalo?" Josh asked. He had found his school planner in the bottom of his gym bag, and was looking at a small map of the United States. He called out random city names and gauged his parents' reactions. This was an improvement over his withdrawal for most of the afternoon; but that did not mean he was really dealing with this as well as he was pretending to.

Will shook his head. "Miserable winters. I don't think you and your mother would like the cold very much."

"Can we move to Hawaii, then?"

Will looked at Molly. "It's rather expensive there, I think."

"We wouldn't know anyone, or be able to visit the States," she said. To her, Hawaii was as exotic as a foreign country.

"Savannah?" Josh asked. He had never been there, but he liked the name.

"That's enough for now," Will said. Molly was putting on a brave face, but with every suggestion, her body language clearly said, _'I want to keep living here in Florida, damn it!' _The firelight exaggerated the creases on her face.

"I don't really mind where we go, just so long as the people there aren't weird," Josh said.

"Weird? What do you mean weird?" Molly asked.

"I dunno. Just…the people here make sense, but the people on the news are always so strange. I'd rather not live somewhere where people will always be so…so weird." Josh was not a particularly articulate teenager, but he could hardly explain something he didn't understand himself. Home was safe and familiar, and the rest of the world was strange.

"We're definitely not moving to a city, so you don't have to worry about that," Will said. He suspected that Josh had an inaccurate impression of how many people out there were disturbed serial killers, but then, he couldn't blame him – he'd seen one and known of others secondhand. How many eleven year old boys had had someone try to kill them? Molly seemed a bit relieved; city life didn't suit her.

"We'll talk to people we know, see if someone wants to put us up for awhile, and then we'll see about where we can move to," Molly said.

"Will we go to my grandparents?" Josh asked. They always spoiled him and showered him with attention – which made him uncomfortable these days.

Molly glanced at Will. "Maybe," he said. "We haven't talked to them yet." He knew they wouldn't say no, but he was not comfortable with accepting their hospitality, either. He was grateful to Molly for not bringing this up last night.

"I'll miss the water," she said suddenly.

"There's a lot of coastline in this state alone," Will said. "We don't have to give that up when we move."

"Yeah, I mean, no one's going to pay you to fix boat motors in Kansas!" Josh said, and they all laughed.

"We'll see. Maybe it's time for me to consider another line of work." He wasn't sure yet, but he'd been turning it over in his head all day. He did not miss police work, and he certainly didn't miss the FBI. But…maybe the best way to deal with being hunted was to get back into hunting. He thought that if he didn't, he might end up sitting at home and drinking all day. Molly and Josh would not stick around to watch that happen, and he wouldn't want them to see it either. It was hard, though. He wasn't sure he could handle it. He _felt_ like a burned out mess, and going back would just expose that truth for everyone else to see. Every time someone did a double-take on seeing his face, he would doubt himself.

Josh didn't think much of his remark, but Molly knew which direction his thoughts were headed in, and her brow creased with worry. She knew he wasn't thinking about becoming a car mechanic.

"We'll see," he repeated quietly, trying to reassure her. Damn Jack. The man could manipulate marionettes in his sleep. What had prompted him to offer Will not only relocation, but a job? He wasn't fooling anyone, though – he couldn't do that any more. He'd lose himself if he tried to get into one more twisted killer's head, he was sure of it. They'd have to use their own resources to catch Buffalo Bill. He kept his victims alive for awhile; Will couldn't look at the file and keep thinking.

But he already was thoroughly familiar with Lecter's file…. He shook his head. No. He was _not _ready for that.

The night was chilly, and the next day they all decided they had run away for long enough. It was kinda funny to see how they came to that consensus separately, silently. There was a lot of awkward looking away from each other before they ate lunch, til Will finally realized that no one was going to say anything – this outing had been his idea, so he had to be the one to call it off. Once he announced that staying out another night would be unnecessary, things were more relaxed. They almost enjoyed the afternoon.

But when they got back to the dock, Will insisted that the others stay with the boat while he cleared the house. "There is no one here," he said apologetically, "but also no harm in having you wait a few minutes." It had been two days; Lecter _could_ have gotten here while they were away. He took the gun with him; Molly realized that the rest of her life would be like this, and finally, something inside her broke. She started crying as soon as he was out of sight. Josh pretended not to notice.

Will waved them back in, and they carted the things they'd taken with them back to the house. They were still subdued and awkward, but this was home; it was familiar. It was hard to see this place as dangerous, even though dangerous things had happened here in the past. Josh disappeared upstairs as soon as he'd fed the dogs; Molly pulled out food to start dinner.

Will picked up the phone and dialed immediately, without looking up any numbers. He always did that; he hadn't needed to look up Crawford's number last night, either. Will had decided to come back because he had to make a few phone calls. Molly watched him from the sink as if she'd never seen him make a phone call before.

"Stewart, please," he said, and then waited on hold for awhile. "It's Will Graham. Yeah, I heard the news. They didn't catch him, did they? Well, no, not really. I've been away the past couple of days. Yeah." He listened for a moment. "Oh, really? Well, that's good then." He smiled quickly at Molly. "I'm thinking about it. No, nothing drastic. Uh-huh. I saw him once after court. On the Dolarhyde case. Yeah, they called me in for that." A longer pause. "He did, but I didn't say anything. He knew you'd left the force, but that's all." Another pause. "Crawford thinks he's going to be drunk on freedom for awhile, too busy hiding out to go after anyone. I wouldn't worry…yeah, I know he's a fucking monster and I don't trust him either. Yeah. Well, hey, let me give you my number and you can call if you need to, okay? Yeah, I'll be here at least another couple of days, I think. Yeah. No, I have to move – the family…. Yeah. Hang in there, you hear?" He gave him the number and hung up, then turned to face Molly.

"They found Buffalo Bill."

"That's…that's great."

"Still no news on Lecter, though. That was Stewart, he worked the Lecter case. He's the one who cleared the basement."

"Where is he now?" Molly asked, trying to see why that was relevant, only half-way focused on chopping vegetables.

"He's still in Baltimore, but not a cop any more. He's managing a motel out on Route 40." She was looking at him expectantly still. "I just wanted to touch base with him, see what he was up to." He sighed. "I have to do this, Molly."

"Do what?" she asked.

"Hunt the bastard down. It's the only way we're ever going to have peace. If I just take us and run away and hide, you know…you know that's gonna be a mess. I don't want…I don't want to drag you through this, but…"

"We're in it, now," Molly finished for him, none too happy. "You have to do what you have to do, Will, but don't let him take over your life. It's bad enough that we already have to change everything, lose everything, just because of him. Don't let him take more than you have to."

"I won't." He hoped he could keep that promise. He got out the phone book and flipped through the yellow pages to find a realtor. "Where we go first is up to you, though." If he was going to drag her back to Maryland eventually, he had to at least start somewhere more friendly to her.

"I guess I should call my cousin once this is in the oven," she said. They were still taking turns making calls when Josh came down and asked to borrow the car.

"After dinner," they said in unison, and he rolled his eyes.

"You'll want to see the news tonight," Will promised.

In the end, Josh stayed for dinner, but did _not_ want to watch the news with his parents. He wanted to see his friends. He agreed to be back by midnight, and the look on his mother's face said that he had better keep to his word. He knew they'd be worried sick if he were late, so he told himself he'd keep an eye on the time. Just because there was no school tomorrow did not make this a good time to challenge a curfew.

As Will had suspected, the unmasking of Buffalo Bill and the rescue of the Senator's daughter was the primary news story. They'd had a day to gather background information and talk to everyone involved; the Senator was grateful, and claimed her daughter was recovering. Will had to smile darkly at that; the victims were often marked for life, if they lived. A 12-year-old photo of the killer was the best they could do so far; apparently he didn't keep recent photos of himself. They managed to find the families of previous victims, and got them to say that they wished the killer had been apprehended sooner. They replayed the footage of the night before, the glimpses of the basement and the breathless reporting of the horrors found there by police. "Why can't they ever be obsessed with transformation into something truly beautiful?" Will muttered to himself. Molly just shuddered. They managed to get a comment out of Alan Bloom, probably totally out of context from an earlier interview.

But then it switched back to the 'rescue' footage, Catherine Martin being led to an ambulance, and Clarice Starling of the FBI. Will looked at the way she was carrying herself and said, "She shot him."

"Yes," Molly agreed, "I think she did." She had that look about her.

The newscasters confirmed their intuition a moment later, giving Special Agent Starling credit for tracking down and killing the monster. There was little new information after that, but Will did not turn off the TV until they switched to a different news story. Lecter was still at large. He stared into space for awhile.

"I love you, kid," Molly said suddenly, and he held her on the couch. He always sat on her left, so his good side was towards her. He sometimes was surprised she was still here, especially after the last few years. Maybe they would get through this, assuming Dr. Lecter didn't come for them. They both had more scars than most people.

* * *

_Well, this story isn't over yet. I'm as surprised by that as any of you. It is very strange to tell a story that insists on more chapters like this......_


	6. Drifters

_Drifters_

Molly's cousin in California was profusely apologetic, but they were having work done on the house and half of it was either currently torn up or going to be torn up over the next couple of months. It would be a terrible time for houseguests. So, that was out. Will resigned himself to the grandparents in Oregon. He knew that Josh was more than welcome there, but he wasn't entirely comfortable; he felt like a guest, not family. But that didn't matter – they would only be there temporarily, and if Molly and Josh felt safe, that was what was most important.

The problem with staying there long term, beyond overstaying their welcome, was that the connection was too obvious. If they were truly going to relocate, they had to wind up somewhere they could be completely anonymous and unknown. Will wanted to go back to the East Coast, but not too soon. If Lecter had any unfinished business to take care of, it would take him back to Baltimore. Chilton was in Baltimore. For these reasons alone, Will did not want to go anywhere near Baltimore right now. The idea of accidentally running into Dr. Lecter in the grocery store was too much.

As it turned out, sleeping in his own bed on Sugarloaf Key was too much for him. That first night back, he woke up in a cold sweat and shaking. They'd waited up for Josh, who managed to get back by a quarter to twelve. He only slept three hours when the nightmare took him. Until they left Florida, he slept on the boat with the dogs for company and the sound of water in his ears. It helped, and at least his night terrors didn't wake up Molly. If she dreamed, she did so quietly and did not want to talk about it. She tried very hard not to smother Josh, but she still worried about him whenever he was out of her sight.

They all reassured one another that life was always uncertain, and that something terrible could happen at any time – Lecter was no more inevitable than cancer or hurricanes. Somehow, this didn't help.

They packed their things, but not the furniture, and left the key with the realtor who would be showing their house. Will also left him a picture of Dr. Lecter and Jack Crawford's phone number, with strict instructions not to give out his contact information in Oregon to anyone. "Just take a message," he said.

One of the things Will took with him was a framed picture of a family he had never met. It had been found in Dolarhyde's stolen car after his death (his _real_ death), along with the killer's homemade videos. Will knew they were his next intended victims, before he had chosen to focus on Graham instead. Molly knew that behind the picture of the Shermans were the pictures of the Jacobis and the Leeds – the ones he didn't save. She dealt with that memory differently than he did, but said nothing when he packed that picture.

In Oregon, Will was overly polite, and spent as much time outside as he could. The weather was cooler than Florida, and wet. This did not deter him. At night, he shared Molly's room. As always, he turned the lights out before laying down next to her. She knew that he would never lose consciousness of his scarred face, even if she had gotten used to it. "Does it bother you that I want to kill him?" he asked her in the darkness.

"No," she said too quickly. "I know you wouldn't enjoy it."

He winced anyway. "I have to," he said, trying to convince himself.

"I know. Lecter is the one who makes it personal. If he's going to come after us, we all have to be ready to kill him. Even Josh." She hated saying that, but he could hear that she was convinced of the truth.

"God, Molly, not him too." He ran a hand through his hair. He had shot Hobbs to death; she had shot Dolarhyde to death. Did that mean it was Josh's turn to shoot Dr. Lecter? He was being stupid; the world didn't work that way. Still, what kind of father was he, to bring this on his family?

"Maybe he'll have the sense to stay away," she murmured, voicing her own hope. Will could not bring himself to share it. He'd seen firsthand how much hatred the man bore for him. And he knew Dr. Lecter to be a very patient man – he could wait for the opportune moment, if he had to.

Next time he called Crawford, he got a secretary who said the man was out on compassionate leave. Will was a bit shaken to hear of his wife's death; he hadn't known she was so sick. But of course Crawford wouldn't have spoken of it himself.

"Congratulations on another collar," he said formally.

"I'm glad you called, Will," Jack Crawford said, when next they spoke.

"Listen, what I said the other night, I didn't…."

"No, don't even say it. It was late. You've had more time to think now." It was two weeks since Will had seen the news.

"Jack, I'm sorry, I heard…"

"Thanks." Jack Crawford never wanted to talk about himself.

"I'm in Oregon with Josh's grandparents. For now."

"What are your plans?"

"We'll stay here til the place sells."

"How long would that be?"

"You saw the place; it shouldn't be too long."

"That was before the hurricanes."

"Even so, it's good real estate. They think it will be snapped up."

"So, what's next?"

"I…I want to come back."

"Pardon?"

"You said you'd get me a job. I'll help you hunt Lecter."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Will, before I can let you do that, there are some things we have to put on the table."

"Shoot."

"The Bureau will want a psychological evaluation."

Silence.

"It'd be your choice of who does it, but I couldn't take you back on without that."

"I…understand."

"We'll have to discuss security for your family. I'm not going to let you do anything rash."

"Of course. I don't plan to buy a house using my real name."

"I always level with you. I'm retiring in a couple of years, no matter what. If I take you on now, I can't promise anything beyond that."

"I'd hope that in…in a couple of years…we'd have caught him."

"Me too. And if he keeps up his shenanigans, we might have him soon."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Wrote a letter to Chilton. And Starling."

"So he's on the move."

"Most likely. Used a remailing service in London, though, so we can't be sure."

Even that small scrap of information started working in Will's head. "I'm coming in. I…don't care who does the evaluation. Preferably somebody I don't know."

"So not Bloom then."

"No, not Bloom. Christ, Jack, he's the one shrink who isn't itching to dissect me. I'd rather not change that."

"Of course. Call me when you sell the house; I'll set up the necessary appointments. It…it will be good to be working with you again."

"Thanks, Jack. I…I look forward to seeing everyone." Crawford had been smart enough not to say anything about seeing him.

After he hung up, Will stared at the phone for awhile. Then he called the realtor in Florida and warned him, again, about Lecter. "If he realizes you've recognized him, he will kill you. You can't fuck around with this guy, okay? Just play dumb, let him get the hell out of there, and then call the FBI straight away if he shows up." The man sounded reasonably spooked. If Lecter was on the move, there was a chance he'd head to Florida. But Will still thought there was a strong chance he'd head to Baltimore first. Better to stay here in Oregon for awhile.

Molly poked her head in after he hung up the phone.

"Everything alright?"

No, nothing was alright. "Let's start looking for a place on the Chesapeake."


	7. New Start

New Start

Will managed to pass his psychological evaluation. Jack wasn't stupid; he'd requested a stranger for a reason, and knew enough to pass a test, surely. He tapped the file on his desk, weighing what it was worth. Finally, he called Bloom. "Graham wants to come back and work for me."

"I bet he does. Are you going to let him?"

"He passed his psych eval – I have little reason to tell him no."

"You know he doesn't _like_ to kill people."

"No, he doesn't. But he won't hesitate to put a bullet in Lecter's brain, that's for damn sure. The Bureau is not a good place to carry out personal vendettas and witch hunts."

"So you don't trust him."

"I trust him. He's a good man. But every man has his limits, and I pushed Will past his. I'd be naïve to think he won't snap on this one."

"What are your chances of catching Lecter without him?"

"About nil, but I think it's about nil with him, too. We already know who Lecter is; this is a case where the rest of the FBI can do the footwork. I don't need to resurrect his demons for this."

"That's already happened, you know. As long as Lecter is loose, Will won't have any peace. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah, I do, which is the only reason I'm considering this. I want you to tell me if I'm wrong."

"If you really wanted to know that, you'd have sent him to me for that evaluation."

"I did suggest it; he specifically requested a stranger."

"I see."

"Don't be like that; you're the one who wants to be his friend, not his doctor. He respects you for that."

"Then as his friend, I have to warn you that you will have to take him off this case eventually. If you don't catch Lecter, he will turn inwards and slowly self-destruct. He knows this; we all do that on a dead-end case. But he will not be able to walk away himself. Not this time."

"I've already told him that the job doesn't outlast me; when I retire, he goes too."

"Fair enough. Go ahead and give him a chance then. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"Thanks."

Crawford hung up the phone. The file didn't seem any less weighty; he knew this decision was still on his head, even if he had Bloom's approval. Molly was going to kill him, probably.

But it did seem best for Will, which was what mattered. That, and tracking down Lecter.

Will felt out of place. He'd trimmed his beard and put on a dress shirt, but that didn't make him a professional, and he knew it. He sat in Jack Crawford's battleship grey office and studiously did not look at the man. He had not wanted to see Jack's eyes linger on his face, nor did he want to see pity there, of all places. He knew if he gave the man a little time, he would see neither of those things.

Jack hung up the phone and turned his attention to Will. "How is the move going?"

"Well enough. I'm still looking for a place. Molly's place sold."

"Good, good. I'll be honest with you, Will, we're running blind here. We know he started in Memphis, of course, but we don't know where he went from there. We hope that flooding the news with his picture will turn something up, but so far that's mostly just a lot of false tips from people who think they saw something – the usual. He's probably smart enough not to give himself away with his more unique handiwork."

Will nodded. "You said he's mailed a few letters?"

"Yes, a death threat for Chilton and a tease for Starling. We haven't been able to get anything useful out of either of them yet."

"You're sure they're from him?"

"Yeah, the handwriting matches."

"I'd like to see them."

Crawford nodded and stood up, pulling a folder off the shelf. "The originals are logged in evidence, of course, but here are the photocopies."

Will read Chilton's letter first, and Jack saw the smile that ghosted his face. Then Starling's, and a frown replaced it.

"Tell me about Clarice Starling."

"I can do better than that; you can meet her. She's in class right now, but I can call her over later today."

"Are you going to tell me what happened? Or should I ask her?"

Jack sighed. "I sent her in to interview Lecter. You know how he always stonewalls the researchers, so I thought I'd send him someone more…interesting."

"Interesting how?"

"She's a pretty young girl, Will. Lecter had been in there for over eight years…"

"So he took the bait?"

"Yes; but not in the way I'd planned. He never did answer her questions, but he dangled Buffalo Bill in front of her, so she kept talking to him. He gave us the information we used to catch him."

"I see."

"Look, when I sent her in I didn't know that Buffalo Bill was one of Lecter's former patients, okay? We have the tape now; we could have wrapped up the whole thing without ever talking to him if we'd known where to look."

"And where was that?"

"Raspail's relatives had the tapes of his sessions with Dr. Lecter."

Graham nodded. He looked back at the letters and reread them a few times.

"Talk to me." It was said in a companionable, inviting way, but Will knew it was his way of making sure he hadn't lost his edge.

"This threat to Chilton is bogus. The tattooed feeding instructions? No way. What Lecter really wants to do is give the man a long, slow painful death. This note is just meant to intimidate him, to start the torture now. A promise of what's to come, to heighten Chilton's fear. Lecter knows Chilton is the type of man who values control, so this is meant to scare him more than a death threat. Lecter will not snipe him; killing from a distance would never satisfy him. He likes to feel his victims writhe; see the panic on their faces, the whole nine yards. Ideally, he'd abduct Chilton and take his time with him, making sure the doctor knows exactly who is doing this to him. That would require a good deal of privacy, and also some confidence that he would not be traced when he took Chilton. But he has no intention of leaving Chilton alive afterwards."

"So you're saying that a guard on Chilton is our best chance for catching Lecter?"

"For now. I don't know anything about Memphis yet." He glanced down at the other letter. "What is Threave?"

"A castle in Scotland; that's all I know so far."

Will didn't ask any other questions; he wanted to wait to meet Clarice Starling.

Will knew Jack wanted them to see one another, but it wasn't until he met her that he understood why. Her eyes lingered on the left side of his face, as everyone's always did. But the way she looked at him was not with pity or awe…she was uncomfortable for a different reason.

He asked her a bit about her time at the Academy and the Buffalo Bill case, before moving on to Lecter. They were having an informal conversation, not an interrogation. But he was definitely confused by her…protectiveness of Lecter. Something didn't add up.

"So you're saying you don't think he'll come after you?"

She shook her head. "Not at first, anyway. Maybe if he gets bored."

"Because the world is more interesting with you in it?" he asked, quoting Lecter's letter.

She didn't exactly blush, but she was a bit shy over that. Something…something odd. He couldn't put his finger on it. "No, not really. He'd…want to save me for later, and would only kill me when he tired of the game. I think he likes to play games, so…he wouldn't want to waste it. If that makes any sense?"

He smiled. "Sure. It's hard not to sound crazy when you try to explain how an insane person thinks."

She smiled at him a little over that.

"You spoke to him most recently. What do you think was on his mind, anything he'd want to do or visit?"

"I think…I think Dr. Chilton was first on his list."

Will nodded. "Yes, that's not something he's going to let go. I wonder how Chilton is handling this?"

"And…well, I should tell you that he did ask about you."

Will stilled. "Oh?"

"Just asked me if I knew you; when I said I didn't, he dropped it."

Will nodded, suspecting Lecter had said something a bit more. "He won't forget me either, but hopefully Chilton's special brand of treatment will stay forefront in his mind for now." He paused a moment. "Was that out loud?" he asked her.

"I'm afraid so," she said, but her grin was sincere this time.

He asked her a few questions about the others who worked at the hospital, to gauge how well she read people and relationships. "So…what else did you talk about with him?"

She sighed. "Mostly stuff he dredged up from my childhood. I doubt that's going to be very helpful. He liked to insinuate that he knew more than he did, and he enjoyed…picking at things."

Will looked at her in alarm. "What…what did you tell him?"

"Oh…about my Dad's death and the farmer I went to live with afterwards."

"The lambs," Will said, recalling the letter.

She nodded. "I know you're not supposed to talk during an interrogation. I'm new, but not *that* green. It's just…if I didn't give him anything, he wouldn't talk, and, well, he was supposed to stay locked up."

"Yes, he was," Will said with feeling. "Did Crawford come up?"

"Oh, yes, of course. He knew I was working for him."

Will nodded. "Are you…are you familiar with Lecter's case file?"

"Briefly, yes, but I haven't combed through it. I was…I was working on the Buffalo Bill case," she said apologetically.

"Of course, of course. We…we should probably go back through it and see if we can turn up any unfinished business, old acquaintances, that sort of thing. I don't recall the investigation digging too far into his past last time, so there's probably more that could be added to the file; we'll know after we review it. And then update it. See who he's been corresponding with if Chilton's kept records." Will didn't know if Crawford had planned to let her work on Lecter's case, but it had become obvious that she was involved. She was also potential bait. He wanted to hear from her, and if he got…bored…he might renew his interest in Agent Starling.

"You wanted her to see my face. You wanted to intimidate her."

Crawford did not deny it. "You know what Lecter is. You worked his case, you know his file, you were at his trial. And yes, he sliced you up. I don't have to worry about his charms working on you; you're immune. She never saw him in his natural environment, though – he was always a caged prisoner to her, mostly polite. She thinks he won't hurt her; he is encouraging that illusion. I…I think she respects him."

"She will not help us catch him."

"It's not that bad. I just want her to develop a healthy fear of him, that's all."

Will nodded, not sure if Crawford had sized up the situation this time, but willing to go along with his intuition…for now. Whatever Lecter had done to Starling made her a liability, but perhaps he could work with her.

"Did the hospital keep track of Lecter's correspondence? Do we know who he was talking to?"

"Not as detailed as we would like, no. Lecter was a writer, and he kept a steady stream of mail going in and out. They logged it, but sometimes it was simply listed as 'personal correspondence' without any indication of whom he was writing to."

Will sighed. "Figures. Even so, I'll sift through that, see if I can find anything. Does the Bureau have a copy of Starling's conversations with Lecter?" he asked.

"Yes." Crawford sighed. "I suppose you'll want to go through them?"

"I can ask her first, if you'd like."

"It's not that, Will," he said. Will just waited a moment for him to continue. "You know how when you make a mistake as a parent, you hope no one else was watching?" Will nodded. "It was probably a mistake to send her in there. And you're going to see that more clearly than anyone."

"He wasn't supposed to escape," said Will quietly. "That mistake wasn't yours."

"No, it wasn't," Crawford agreed. "But we'll do our best to correct that now. You can have the tapes."

Will was planning to move Molly and Josh out here after he got his first paycheck. That way, if he decided to bolt, he wouldn't be disrupting all their lives again. He wanted to be sure he could do this before he brought them out here. And it gave him time to look for a place. He didn't mind a commute; much more important to be on the water when he got home from work. He knew he'd find something; he started looking in Dundalk and Middle River, and let himself be shocked by the price of housing in Baltimore after the Florida Keys.

For now, though, he was staying with Stewart. A motel was nice and anonymous (not to mention within his budget), and it was good to catch up with his old friend. Still, he was a bit jumpy that Lecter could find Stewart, too, if he wanted to. He did not sleep well there. He would dream that he was back in Florida, and he'd get up in the middle of the night and go down to the kitchen. Everything would seem normal…until he opened the fridge, and there would be Molly's head staring back at him. Or he'd find her dismembered in the bathtub. It shocked him awake every time. And in the unreasonableness of 3 AM, he could not reach for her and reassure himself that all was well.

Still, at least he was doing something about it, and he talked to her on the phone each day. They'd adapt to this. Somehow, things would return to normal.

He just had to keep his co-workers from finding out how badly he wanted to kill Lecter.


End file.
